﻿My Sister Drinks It (parts 1-9) (Mg,extreme pedo,toddler,nepi,ws)
by Frank McCoy
My little sister is sick. Some people would say I was even
sicker, because I take advantage of her. No, I mean physically
sick, not mentally. Though some people might say she was
mentally sick too. You see, my little sister drinks pee. Yes,
pee. Piss. Urine. You know what I mean.
You see, she doesn't drink it because she likes to, but
because she has too. No, that's wrong too. I didn't mean to
imply that she didn't like it. Chrissie likes to drink pee, as
much as you or I like to drink pop. She got that way, because
she HAS to drink it, or she gets sick. Well, maybe she doesn't
actually HAVE to. OH shit! I started this all wrong. Perhaps
I'd better start at the beginning.
When Chrissie was born, she looked and acted just like any
other baby. It wasn't until she was about 2 years old, and Momma
first switched her from breast-milk to solid foods, that we first
found out that something was wrong.
It's not that Chrissie had a hard time adjusting to solid
food; it's just that she always seemed to be so thirsty. Then,
she started to lose weight. After about six months, my little
sister looked starved and pale. She always seemed to be
sweating, and she drank whatever liquids she found, almost
constantly. The first real indication of what was to come, was
when Momma found my little sister drinking out of the toilet-
bowl, that Daddy had just finished peeing in. She was so thirsty
that when she couldn't find anything to drink, (the cupboards and
sink were too high) she copied the cat, which she had seen
drinking there earlier. (We tried to stop that animal from
drinking out of the toilet-bowl, but it never seemed to learn.)
Nobody had ever told Chrissie that toilet-bowls weren't drinking-
fountains, (She was JUST beginning to talk, at the time.)
Momma almost had kittens herself, when she saw her little
girl face-down in the toilet. At first, she thought the little
girl had drowned. Then, when she saw what was REALLY going on,
Momma was almost as upset as if Chrissie HAD drowned. Hysterical
doesn't begin to describe my mother that day. That was the last
straw. Straw? Heck, that was the whole straw-stack, with a load
of lumber on top. Momma called the doctor, and tried to set up
an appointment right then.
Well, you know doctors. If the kid isn't dying, then she
has to wait on them. It was over a week before Momma could get
Chrissie scheduled to go in for testing. During that time, Momma
watched Chrissie like a hawk; fearing that her little escapade
might have made an already sickly little girl even sicker.
Surprisingly, (to Momma; all the rest of us figured that a
little piss wouldn't hurt her) Chrissie didn't seem to be hurt at
all. In fact, for two days she cut down on her liquid intake and
a little color seemed to appear in my little sister's cheeks.
Then she went back to looking the same.
CHAPTER 1
About halfway through the week, Chrissie came toddling into
the bathroom, just when I was about to start to take a piss
myself. She had been using the toilet herself for almost a month
now; and the whole family was trying to encourage her. So nobody
had yet told her she shouldn't come in when other people were
using it. Usually, whoever was in the bathroom would finish up
as quickly as possible, and let the little girl go.
Chrissie never did piss too much. Not even when she was a
baby. Her diaper very rarely got wet. Stinky, yes. Wet, not
very often. We hadn't really noticed this the way we should
have, until our noses were rubbed in it.
That day, I'm ashamed of. That was the first time I took
advantage of my little sister's ignorance. It turned out to be
lucky that I did; but it also set a pattern for later in both of
our lives. I kept taking advantage of my little sister; and she
kept letting me. Since the results were usually positive for
her, she got to expect it; and I never felt as guilty about it as
I should have. So I never stopped; and she kept on letting me;
until we got trapped in our pleasant (Uh sorry, that's: present.)
situation.
That morning I hadn't yet gone myself. So I moved out of
the way for Chrissie; expecting her to sit down and relieve
herself; then I could go after her. (OK, I'll admit it; I was
something of a voyeur.) I wanted to watch my little sister pee,
because it would give me a chance to get a close look at what the
little girl had between her legs.
Chrissie wasn't old enough to know she shouldn't do
"private" things like this in front of her big brother. At 10
years old, I was just beginning to get interested in what girls
had between their legs, and had just discovered the fun of
playing with what I had between mine. Still, what I did that day
was, to say the least, naughty. To say the worst? No, I don't
want to repeat what Momma said later to me. My ears still burn
even now, almost 15 years later. Oh. I forgot to tell you what
I did that day. I'll continue.
Well, I just moved out of the way; expecting my little
sister to put the toilet-seat down, and sit on it. You can
imagine my surprise, when the little girl kneeled down instead,
and bent over to where her face was almost in the water. It
didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the little girl
was going to do, after the big blowup 3 days before. I reached
for my little sister and stopped her; shaking my head as I did
so.
Chrissie looked at me with those big sad eyes of hers and
said, "No?" That was one of the few words she understood at the
time.
I tried to make it clear to her. "No," I said. "No drink
potty." I THOUGHT she understood all three words.
"No?" repeated my little sister. I think she understood;
but her big blue eyes got even bigger; and tears started to run
down her cheeks. I was afraid I was going to have a bawling
little girl on my hands, when a VERY nasty idea occurred to me.
Even now, years later, I can't believe I did what I did.
"Oh heck," I said, "if you want to drink pissy-water, why
don't you drink the real thing?"
CHAPTER 2
I had been standing there with my pants half-down, cock in
hand, ready to pee, when this all started. At the time I was
joking; but I waved my little peter at my sister's face in a
manner that even a 2-year-old could understand.
Chrissie looked at me; not sure. "Drink?" she asked. She
DID understand the word. (Not surprising, considering how much
she drank every day.) It was then, that I did it. It's too late
now to apologize; and Chrissie wouldn't let me anyway. She's too
happy with the results. What I did was very simple: I nodded my
head.
Chrissie knew what to do. It hadn't been all that long
since she'd been on the bottle; and she had seen me and Daddy
pissing before; so she knew that liquid came out of a man's
peter. Liquid was what Chrissie wanted: She swallowed my cock;
then started sucking on it like a milking machine.
I was caught by surprise. I had really expected Chrissie to
turn me down. Actually, I had expected her to be disgusted. I
was slightly worried about what Momma might think, but figured
that Chrissie wasn't old enough to explain what I had tried to
do. (Yes I know. . . I was a little punk bastard.)
As I said, Chrissie caught me by surprise. The shock of
feeling my little sister's warm mouth on my already leaking penis
was too much. I had needed to pee fairly badly when I came into
the bathroom; and Chrissie's interruption had just increased my
bladder pressure. I let go. Yes, I peed right in my own two-
year-old sister's sucking little mouth. I peed, and peed, and
then peed some more. It seemed as if I just couldn't stop.
I really expected Chrissie to pull away in disgust; so that
I would squirt all over the floor and make a big mess. To my
surprise, Chrissie not only didn't pull away, she sucked even
harder; gulping madly, as she strained to keep up with the flow.
I couldn't believe it. My little sister actually seemed to LIKE
the taste of my piss. I had tasted it myself once, but never
actually DRANK it.
When I finished peeing, Chrissie kept right on sucking. As
the last little dribbles came out, she worked to get more. I
didn't have any; but the feeling of my little sister's mouth on
my peter felt good; so I didn't tell her to stop. MY prick got
unbelievably hard; but I was too young to have an orgasm; so
after about 10 minutes it got to be too much, and I asked
Chrissie to stop.
Chrissie seemed disappointed that she couldn't get any more
out of me; but dropped my peter, and happily toddled back out
into the living room. It was only then that I started to have
the shakes, as I thought of the danger I had been in. Either one
of our parents might have seen us. I hadn't even had the
presence of mind to shut the bathroom door. Boy was I dumb! I
broke out in a cold sweat, as I thought of how much trouble I had
just missed. Still, two days later I couldn't resist doing it
again.
After that first time, I watched my little sister closely.
After all, I DID love the kid; and if swallowing my pee made her
sick, then I vowed I would tell Mom even if I got in trouble. (I
wouldn't DARE tell Dad. He'd probably kill me, for doing
something like that to his "little princess.")
CHAPTER 3
Well, my piss didn't make Chrissie sick. In fact, She
seemed to be getting better. Her face tuned pink, instead of
pasty-white. She cut down a LOT on how much she was drinking;
and she seemed unusually bright and cheerful. So much so, that
Momma was almost ready to cancel the doctor's appointment for
her, when it happened. The third time, I got caught.
Yeah, I did it again. The second time Chrissie followed me
into the bathroom I was still scared; and looked around carefully
before pulling out my peter, and letting her suck on it. She
seemed to expect it after that first time; and I didn't
disappoint her. The only trouble was: The second time I wasn't
caught by surprise, and the feeling of the little girl's mouth on
my horny little peter was so stimulating that I got a hard-on
that wouldn't LET me pee. It was almost 10 minutes, before I
lost control (or gained it) and once again filled my little
sister's tummy with pee.
Now that she knew what to expect, she seemed to like it even
better than the first time. She kept sucking though, even after
I stopped peeing, until I told her she should quit. Happily, the
little girl left me there; wondering just what I had gotten
myself into. A lot of trouble, it turned out.
The next day, I got caught. Chrissie followed me into the
bathroom again; only THIS time Momma noticed. She came in
(probably to tell Chrissie that she shouldn't bother her big
brother in the bathroom) and got there just as my prick got into
full-flow in my little sister's mouth. Momma's yelp of surprise
caught me and Chrissie by surprise ourselves; and I jerked so
that my prick came out of Chrissie's mouth and squirted piss all
over her face, and down her front. I just stood there, frozen in
fright; but Chrissie hurriedly grabbed my cock and redirected the
remaining spurts of urine into her mouth, so they didn't go to
waste. At least it was obvious that Chrissie wanted this, and I
wasn't forcing her. If it HADN'T been so obvious, I shudder to
think of what might have happened next. It was bad enough as it
was. Such screaming, hollering and accusations, you never heard
in your life.
I tried to explain that Chrissie had started the whole
thing, but Momma wouldn't listen; saying that, "Her idea or not,
you should know better."
Well, I guess I did. I just hadn't been able to resist.
The only thing that saved my ass, was Momma's worry about
Chrissie. Years later, the whole family chuckles about it; but
at the time Momma was scared that drinking my piss would make my
sickly little sister even sicker. Possibly even seriously so.
So Momma grabbed me and Chrissie; left a message for Daddy; and
hustled us both down to the doctor's office. Appointment or no
appointment, Momma wanted Chrissie's stomach pumped; and she
wanted ME to know just what was happening, and that I was to
blame for anything that happened to Chrissie.
Doctors are not mothers; thank goodness. I also thank
heaven that Dr. Curtis was a GOOD doctor, and not some quack with
pre-conceived notions who was too busy to investigate. Chrissie
did NOT get her stomach pumped. (Thank goodness again.)
CHAPTER 4
Since Momma was obviously almost in hysteria by the time we
got to the doctor's office, the nurse found us a room, and Dr.
Curtis saw us in less than 15 minutes. Those were about the
longest 15 minutes of my life. Once the doctor got Momma calmed
down enough to explain what the trouble was, he took a quick look
at Chrissie, and told Momma that he was NOT going to have her
stomach pumped, as doing so would cause far more damage than
swallowing a little urine. "People swallow urine every day," he
assured her, "and except for a queasiness in the stomach, it
usually does no harm."
Momma looked a little relieved at this, but still worried.
Me? I was so relieved, I felt as though someone had dumped
a bucket of ice-water on me. Then I looked at Momma's stern face
and realized I still wasn't off the hook.
Dr. Curtis Had a lot of appointments to attend to that
afternoon; but told Momma that since she was already there, he
would look at Chrissie when he got a chance, instead of us coming
back the next day, when her appointment was. Also, I think he
wanted to talk to me, not just my little sister. So, Momma and I
waited for two hours. Me feeling like a condemned man waiting
for his execution; but not knowing if they were going to shoot,
hang, or electrocute him.
Since I didn't know what Daddy was going to do, that was
pretty close to my situation anyway. Daddy loved both of us, and
there has never been any doubt about that; but when it came to my
little sister, well there's no describing it. No, Daddy didn't
pamper her, or let her get away with anything that he wouldn't
let me get away with (except for the fact that she WAS younger
than I was). Daddy always did his best to be fair.
It's just that Daddy always had wanted a little girl, and
Chrissie almost didn't make it. You could see the love in
Daddy's eyes, as he always watched my little sister whenever she
was in the room with him. Daddy always loved me, and was always
proud of me (Well, not ALWAYS. This time, for example.) but love
almost doesn't describe how he felt about Chrissie. I love her
too, but somehow I guess she'll still always be "Daddy's girl."
Anyway, when Daddy got there Momma explained what was going
on. By this time The doctor was examining Chrissie; the office
had emptied out; so except for a nurse and secretary, the office
was pretty much empty.
Daddy's reaction surprised me. Once he learned what had
happened, he wasn't as worried about Chrissie any more, as he was
about me. Yes, me.
Daddy looked at me with such disappointment, that I would do
this to my own little sister, that I wanted to crawl in a hole
and pull a rock over myself; like the bug that I felt I was. As
I said, I do love my little sister; and Daddy made me feel as if
I had betrayed her. Maybe I had.
Well, about 10 minutes after that, Dr. Curtis brought
Chrissie back; and wanted to talk to me. Yes ME. So this time I
went down the hall, and talked to the doctor.
CHAPTER 5
I expected Dr. Curtis to give me some kind of lecture about
not pissing in your little sister's mouth, and hygiene, or
something like that; but he didn't. Instead, he kept asking me
questions about Chrissie. Like:
"How long have you and your little sister been doing this?"
"When was the first day?"
"How many times have you done it since then?"
"Your mother says Chrissie has been pale, and drinks a lot.
Has she always been this way?"
"The first time this happened, did you or your little sister
start it?"
"Tell me exactly what happened."
"Before that, do you know if your sister had been drinking
from the toilet before; or was that the first time?"
"Have you noticed any changes in your sister since this
started?"
"Has Chrissie shown any interest in feces?"
(I had to ask him what he meant by that one.)
"Does Chrissie have any other unusual habits, that you know
of?"
"How much do you think your little sister drinks each day?"
"Have you noticed if your sister smells different than other
children?"
"Does your sister have any other unusual appetites, that you
know of?"
This questioning went on and on. I felt like a witness at
an accident being grilled by the police. No, not a suspect
(yet), but a possible one.
After me, the doctor talked to both Momma and Daddy
separately, then all of us together. I presume he asked my
parents similar questions. I do remember one particular question
that he asked us all, when Chrissie was there: "Is this normal
for her? I mean, is this how Chrissie usually looks?"
We all stared at my little sister. She was quietly playing;
making "Zoom zoom" noises, with a toy kept in the corner of the
office, for young children just like her. We all stared at my
little sister; at first worried, then wondering.
Momma first put it into words. "No," she said, "not really.
Usually by this time Chrissie will be crying for something to
drink, or otherwise fussing."
Momma was right. Usually my little sister couldn't go two
hours with yelling for something. There was something else too.
"She doesn't look as pale as she usually does," I
volunteered.
Daddy put the final touch on it. "She seems, well. . .
Happy," he said.
Dr. Curtis nodded. "Then you all agree, that she doesn't
seem to be hurt by this episode?"
Hurt? My little sister seemed more contented than I had
seen her for months. Momma and Daddy seemed to think so too.
"I'm going to make an unusual request," said Dr. Curtis.
We all listened.
"You haven't punished her for this, have you?" he asked.
CHAPTER 6
Momma and Daddy both shook their heads. Punish Chrissie?
They thought she was the victim.
"Well, don't" said Dr. Curtis, "And don't punish Mike here
either."
"Huh?" I'm not sure who said that, but it could have been
any or all of us. I began to wonder if I might get off the hook
after all.
"But what if he does it again?" My mother put the whole
family's thoughts into words.
"If SHE wants to, then let her," said the doctor; almost
shocking us all. He then looked at me sternly. "Just don't YOU
go asking HER," he said. "Do you know what I mean?"
I did. "You mean, that if SHE tries to get me to. . .
to. . ." I couldn't say it in front of my parents.
"Urinate in her mouth," prompted Dr. Curtis. Somehow it
wasn't so obscene, when HE said it.
"Yeah, that," I blurted; then continued, "If SHE tries to,
then you WANT me to do it? Really?" This was almost a
plaintive cry.
"Yes I do," reaffirmed the doctor. "In fact," he looked at
both me and my father before continuing, "I want you both to
promise me that you WILL do this for her, if she wants it."
Daddy turned red. I guess he might have bought the idea
that having ME piss in my little sister's mouth wouldn't hurt
her, but what the doctor was suggesting. . . "If you think I'm
going to. . . to. . . to. . . to my own daughter. . ."
I had never seen my father tongue-tied before. Usually
Daddy was about the most articulate person I knew. He had to be.
He was the public spokesman for his company, and a heck of a
salesman to boot.
Dr. Curtis interrupted my father's blustering. "Look at
her," he commanded.
We all looked at my little sister playing contentedly in the
corner.
Daddy wilted. If ANYTHING would make his little girl get
better, he would do it; if it was cutting off his own arm. "But
what if I. . ." Daddy tried for one last stab at sanity.
"Accidentally ejaculate?" Dr. Curtis seemed to know what was
bothering Daddy.
I didn't yet. After all, I was only 10 years old myself.
"Mr. Carlson," said the doctor sternly, "I HOPE you don't
have any hang-ups like that with your wife." At my parent's
head-shakes, he continued, "Then you know that won't hurt her, if
you do. Just don't try to. . . Well, you know what I mean," he
said, looking pointedly in my direction.
I didn't know, but it was obvious that my parents did.
Daddy gave up. "I guess," he said, "if you say so."
"I do," said the doctor. "Now, I want you to take Chrissie
down to see this specialist next Monday. That's the earliest I
could get you in. I want him to confirm my suspicions before we
start treating Chrissie. In the meantime, a little urine in her
diet won't hurt Chrissie; and if I'm right, it might actually
help."
"Treating Chrissie?" asked Daddy with hope. "You mean we
won't have to keep on doing this? There's a treatment for it?"
CHAPTER 7
"Maybe," said the doctor; not wanting to commit himself
until the test-results were in. "In the meantime," he continued,
"you'll do what I asked?"
Daddy looked at me; I looked at Daddy; we both looked at
Mommy. "I guess," he said; and that was that. If Daddy said he
would do something, then he would. I think Daddy hoped he
wouldn't be tested.
So, that night when I was ready for bed and I started for
the bathroom, when Chrissie followed me in I just pulled down my
pants, and let my little sister "do her thing." It took me a
while; as the feeling of her warm little mouth on my prick kept
me so hard, that for a while I couldn't go. But after a while
the pressure got too great, and I let go.
I was just finishing up, when I became aware of my parents
watching the obscene scene going on in the bathroom between their
10-year-old little boy and his 2-and-a-half-year-old little
sister. Like always, Chrissie didn't stop sucking when I
finished peeing; she kept right on, until I told her it was OK,
and she could stop. Chrissie gave me a big grin; licked her
lips; and headed off to bed. Funny, I never noticed HER pee.
For the next three days, this developed into a pattern.
Even when I went to take a shit, Chrissie would kneel down
in front of me and have me pee into her mouth, instead of the
toilet. The more she got, the more she seemed to want.
Sometimes I'd see one or the other of my parents peeking in on
us; but they seemed to be spending a lot of "private-time" in the
bedroom those days; so I wasn't too sure, as they were never
there when I got out. In the meantime, it sure didn't seem to be
hurting Chrissie to be doing such a normally obscene thing. In
fact, she seemed to be healthier for it. Maybe the doctor was
right after all. I guess that Daddy must have figured so,
because he stopped looking mad at me when he saw me heading for
the bathroom, with my little sister in tow.
His worried looks at Chrissie seemed to increase a little
though. I guess he was worried about just WHAT was wrong with
his daughter.
Honestly, I was a little worried myself. I mean, I liked my
little sister. But if she kept on doing this when she got older,
I foresaw a lot of trouble for the little girl. I guess Daddy
could see even further in that direction than I could. Still, I
guess he figured that Chrissie would be better off alive,
healthy, and happy, with a reputation as a nasty little slut,
than sickly, unhealthy, and hurting. I guess that's why he went
along with what came next.
It was almost a week later; just the night before Chrissie's
big appointment at the hospital, where she was going to see the
specialist that it happened. (The doctor was some special
urologist/dermatologist/geneticist thing. I can't remember just
what it was. I remember that the man specialized in skin and
burn victims, and kidney problems associated with them.)
CHAPTER 8
Anyway, this was after we had all gone to bed. I got up to
go to the bathroom. (Actually hoping that my little sister did
NOT wake up and follow me in. Much as I liked the feel of my
little sister's mouth on my prick, it usually took me a lot
longer to pee, when she was there, as she gave me an erection
that made it HARD to piss. [WHAT a pun!]) I was tired and
sleepy, and wanted to get back to bed, not get sucked off.
I was about halfway through, when Chrissie came in. She
looked SO disappointed when she saw me. Valiantly I TRIED to
stop, but just couldn't. I wasted almost 3/4 of my bladder in
the toilet, instead of my little sister.
Chrissie looked so disappointed; she was almost ready to
cry. By this time, we had managed to convince her that she
shouldn't drink out of the toilet-bowl, as that was DEFINITELY
unsanitary. A man's pee is almost as clean and germ-free as his
blood. His shit is another matter entirely.
Chrissie was standing there, staring longingly at the bowl
where I had just "wasted" about a half-cup of pee, when Daddy
came in with a piss hard-on. He hadn't been expecting to catch
us in the bathroom, but doing so made his hard-on get even
harder. Daddy had just slipped naked out of his and Momma's
bedroom; never expecting his kids to be in there at that time of
night.
When Chrissie saw Daddy come in, wiping his eyes before he
realized he had company, her eyes lit up like Christmas.
Chrissie looked so expectantly at Daddy, that he couldn't refuse.
He DID look a little annoyed at me for not taking care of my
little sister though. Still, once Chrissie made it plain what
she wanted, Daddy kept HIS promise. (Daddy always did.) The
only comment he made, was, "Oh shit," before offering his cock to
Chrissie.
Chrissie looked delighted. My little peter was only about 3
or four inches long at the time, but Daddy's was well over 6
inches long, and over an inch thick. It looked enormous to both
of us. I guess Chrissie figured that if Daddy's cock was bigger,
she'd get a bigger drink from it. Well, I guess she did, but not
right away.
Chrissie couldn't get her mouth all the way around Daddy's
cock like she could mine. Actually, she could barely open her
mouth enough to cover the head. Still, Chrissie did her best.
It must have been pretty good. Daddy couldn't pee. Just like
me, the feeling of his own daughter's warm little mouth on his
engorged penis, made it too hard to allow him to piss.
Chrissie just kept sucking harder. She knew from her
experience with me, that if she kept on sucking, eventually she
would get what she wanted. I know that Daddy TRIED to piss,
without cumming, but the stimulation was too much. "Oh God,"
groaned Daddy, "I can't cum in my own daughter's mouth!"
"You'd better," snapped Momma, who had wondered what was
taking so long, and was beginning to feel the need to pee
herself. "You promised," she added.
I wondered what they were talking about. I didn't REALLY
learn, until a few years later, even though I watched the whole
thing many times.
"Oh!" grunted Daddy, and I watched his hips jerk.
Chapter 9
Chrissie put her hands around Daddy's prick in self-defense,
to keep him from accidentally jamming it right down her throat.
(Later, she got to like taking me and Daddy all the way down her
throat, but that was YEARS later.)
Chrissie's eyes opened in surprise, when she got a mouthful
of cum, instead of the much thinner liquid she had been
expecting, but she didn't pull away. She just kept on sucking,
as Momma and I watched my little sister drink every drop of her
father's incestuous seed. Afterwards, she kept right on sucking,
(just like she did with me) as Daddy's cock got smaller, until
suddenly she was able to swallow over half of it.
"Oh god," said Daddy again, in a quieter tone this time.
His hips twitched again, and then I saw my little sister's throat
working, as Daddy poured what must have seemed like a deluge of
pee right down my little sister's hardworking throat. I could
actually hear the sound of the spray hitting the back of
Chrissie's mouth. I learned later, (from Chrissie) that Daddy
not only had more piss than me, (because he was bigger, I guess)
but it was much stronger tasting as well. Chrissie loved it.
Daddy not only had more piss to give her than I did, but it had
more of the flavor she seemed to crave.
From then on, Chrissie chased after Daddy like a little
puppy; hoping to be around when he had to urinate. Since Daddy
had to work though, she still got most of her "supply" from me.
Except I didn't cum in her mouth, like Daddy did. (At least, not
until several years later.)
The next day, we went to see the specialist, and they looked
Chrissie over; prodded her, poked her, took blood samples, stool
sample, urine samples, and even skin-samples. That last, was the
only one that caused Chrissie to cry. She had stoically endured
all the rest; even the blood samples hadn't dampened her spirits
all that much. Afterwards, they said we were done. Daddy was
mad, and insisted on seeing the doctor. "Well tell me," he
insisted, "what's wrong?"
"Won't know for another couple of weeks," mumbled the blue-
garbed man around the sandwich he was eating. The doctor had
agreed to talk to Daddy, but only if they talked while he ate
lunch. He had three more scheduled appointments in 20 minutes.
"Tests won't all be completed until then," he explained.
"But what about my daughter?!?!" Daddy almost exploded. "I
mean we can't just keep on. . ." Daddy didn't want to say what
was going on, in the lunchroom.
"Your daughter's doing just fine right now, isn't she?"
asked the specialist.
"Well, yes but," Daddy spluttered.
"Then keep on doing it, until we tell you different," said
the doctor, before heading out. "It doesn't seem to be hurting
her; and as far as we can tell, it might actually be helping."
Then he was gone.
Daddy was left gasping at his retreating back. "But, but,
but," he spluttered.
"You sound like a motorboat," admonished Momma. I had come
along as well; both because Momma figured they might want to talk
to me again, and because they didn't really trust me alone at
home yet. After all, I was only 10.
THE END (there are thirteen more chapters to this story - found on goodle)
NOTE: More stories like this can be found at:
http://www.asstr.org/files/Collections/Nepi_Stories/